Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Eritrea and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Adolescents to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Star Department,
Massinfluence,
Aaron Thompson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Terrestrial Tones,
The American Breed,
Godley & Creme,
Mark Hollis,
Intrusion,
Little Man,
Bootsy Collins,
The Smoke,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Bar-Kays,
Sex Pistols,
Inner City,
Aloha Tigers,
Lou Reed,
Pagans,
the Association,
Ronnie Foster,
Agitation Free,
Swell Maps,
The Sonics,
Drive Like Jehu,
Stiv Bators,
LL Cool J,
Kurtis Blow,
Carl Craig,
Nas,
Visage,
Buzzcocks,
Aswad,
Skaos,
Andrew Hill,
Accadde A,
David Bowie,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cameo,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Germs,
F. McDonald,
Lakeside,
Radio Birdman,
Toni Rubio,
Maurizio,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Boredoms,
Stetsasonic,
Scion,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The New Christs,
Country Teasers,
The Kinks,
David McCallum,
Tubeway Army,
Parry Music,
Bad Manners,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.